


Child of the Sun

by BrighteyedJill



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Also feelings about feelings, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Botany, F/M, Feelings about plants, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: In Elder Speech, the name of the Feainnewedd flower is formed of feainn (sun) and wedd (child) to mean Sun-Child, or Child of the Sun. It grows only where elder blood has been spilled, and it’s the key to the ancient magics Istredd’s been studying with a little help from an illicit botany experiment in his dorm room. He thought the conditions of his experiment had been controlled, but apparently not controlled enough.
Relationships: Istredd/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #016





	Child of the Sun

Istredd resisted the urge to slam the door of his dorm room behind him and instead let it swing shut on its own, blocking out the snores and the rustling of papers in the cold wind. He wouldn’t give his cretin roommate the satisfaction of knowing just how infuriated Istredd was. He’d grown these flowers from seed--a new hybrid that he’d been coaxing into existence for years now. But Fritz, in a sweaty, drunken stupor, had left a window open to the frigid January air, and now the delicate buds that had just begun to unfurl were rimed with frost and withering. 

Istredd shifted the flower pot--still far too cold--to his left arm so he could dig his phone out of his pocket. It was too early for the Botany building and its warm, humid greenhouse, to be open. If he’d found somewhere else safe to keep the flowers. If he'd just come back from the library sooner, not gotten caught up in those damn manuscripts. If he hadn't used all of the last seed yield in this planting. But no--there was no point in recriminations. First he needed to see if there was anything to be done for his flowers, which meant finding somewhere he would not be disturbed.

Istredd pushed down his fury at himself and at fucking Fritz, and stalked through the underground passageways that branched off across campus, heading for the sanctuary that few others had even visited. Tor Lara, a tower in the very oldest part of Thanedd’s campus, was accessible only with special permission from the Rectoress of Aretuza, or if you happened to have found the back way in through the maze of underground tunnels when you’d come to the school several years younger than most of your classmates and often found yourself alone and looking for a place you couldn't be found. No one would bother Istredd there, no one would see if he--

Istredd started as he slammed into someone already standing in the cavern and desperately fumbled with the pot, clutching it to his chest to keep it from shattering on the stone floor. As soon as he had it secured, he knew who he'd run into--the only other person he knew who'd found their way here on their own.

“Istredd!” Yennefer steadied herself and dismissed the spell she’d been practicing before giving him a mildly irritated glare. It wasn’t her best evil eye, but then, Istredd hadn’t given her much reason, yet. “Why in such a hurry?”

“Yenna.” At the sight of her, Istredd almost spilled out the whole wretched business, but he bit back his words. Yenna was his friend, yes, but she wasn’t known for sparing her sharp tongue. He wouldn’t tell her of the sorrow and anger that had nearly driven him to tears when he’d seen what had happened. She’d known real hardship in her life, and wouldn’t be impressed with a man crying over some flowers. He clasped the pot to his chest and curled a hand around the blooms protectively, as if to shield them from her. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Difficulties with a botany assignment?” She glanced at the pot and waved a hand. “Don’t worry. After all, Tissaia always says the best thing a flower--”

“Don't,” Istredd snapped, and it came out much more savagely than he’d meant it. He let out a shuddery breath. “Just don’t.”

Yenna narrowed her eyes at him, then looked down at the frost-dusted plant. “Come on, sit.” She led him to a blanket she had laid out near one of the towering pillars of skulls. It seemed Istredd hadn’t been the only one studying through the night; the blanket held Yenna’s open laptop, a thermos of coffee, and a few scattered books with notes scrawled in the margins. 

Istredd settled onto his knees as Yenna folded herself into a more-or-less comfortable position across from him, and they both looked down at Istredd’s most recent failed attempt to drag the history of chaos into the present.

“I take it this is more than a botany assignment.” This time Yennefer’s voice sounded steady, with none of its teasing edge: the voice of the smartest mage he knew, the one with whom he’d spent many a long night trading theories and trying out new spells. She _could_ listen when she chose, and maybe she would.

“Feainnewedd’s become damnably rare.” Istredd brushed his fingers across the edge of the pot, not daring to touch the ruined flowers themselves. “It only grows where Elder blood has been spilled, so it’s impossible to cultivate. I thought if I crossed it with a self-propagating variety of a similar species, I could use it more often, see what it can really do.”

“Hm.” Yennefer was watching him thoughtfully now. “I’ve never heard of a plant that grows where Elder blood is spilled. Feainnewedd, is that what you called it?”

“I--” Istredd looked up, and Yennefer looked back at him with those luminous violet eyes that saw too much. He shook his head. This was a mistake. “Forget you heard that.” He made to stand, but Yenna caught him by the wrist and held firm.

“I won’t,” she said, her eyes catching him as surely as her hand had.

“Yenna--”

“Why didn't you plant it in the student greenhouse?” she demanded. “If it’s such an important experiment.”

“It’s not--I didn’t--The professors can’t know.” Istredd tugged his wrist out of Yenna’s grip, but made no attempt to move away. She'd keep asking until she got it out of him, so he might as well tell her. “I’ve been studying ancient Elven magic--old scrolls that were never translated, and that no one bothers with any more. Elves were the first mages, the ones who taught humans how to harness chaos in the first place. There’s so much we can learn from them.”

Yenna was looking at him with an expression Istredd could not read. “That’s not what most people think of Elves.”

“What about you?” he asked. "What do you think of Elves?"

Instead of answering, she inclined her head towards the pot. “Your flowers. Are they dead?”

“I can’t imagine they’re not,” Istredd said tiredly. “Just look.” The frost hadn’t melted much in the drafty corridors, and snow was still caught between the tight-packed petals.

“Well, let’s see.” Yenna turned up the palms of her hands, closed her eyes, and mouthed a spell Istredd didn’t know. Flames flared to life, cupped like a tame animal in each hand. 

Istredd leaned back, eyes narrowing as he tried to work out what exactly she was doing. 

Yenna opened her eyes and gave him an expectant look. “The plant needs warmth, yes?”

“Yes.” Istredd took a deep breath, but figured burning the already-surely-dead plants wouldn’t do much harm. 

Istredd settled his hands under the base of the pot and held it out between the flames Yenna bore. He expected at any moment for them to flare out of her control and lick at the petals or scorch his hands. Fire was damnably hard to control, in his experience. But she merely sat looking at Istredd while he looked at the Feainnewedd hybrid, at the frost turning to water and dripping off the glistening petals. He saw as the edges of the blooms were revealed that they were withered and sick-looking. He’d known there was little chance, but now he was certain. They couldn’t survive. 

Yenna made an inquisitive sound, and tilted her head towards the pot. One small bloom on a reedy stem not far from the soil seemed to have retained its rich burgundy color. Sheltered as it was among the leaves and stems of the taller plants, it was possible it had escaped the worst of the cold. 

Yenna brought her hands up and together, and the flames merged into a shining orb of light, bright as the sun. In this illumination, the wretched condition of most of the blooms was woefully apparent, but that one small bud stayed straight and solid. Istredd could almost imagine he saw it reaching towards the light. 

“Is it alive?” Yenna asked.

“I think so,” Istredd whispered, barely daring to breathe. “If this one survives enough to bear seed, I can try again, plant again. I--” He looked up at Yenna, not caring if the expression on his face gave too much away about how much exactly this meant to him. “Thank you.”

“Some flowers are worth keeping alive,” Yenna muttered, ducking her head shyly like she hadn’t since she’d been a first-year student. She pressed her hands together, extinguishing the bright light. “I..." She cleared her throat. "I’ll teach you the sun spell, if you like. They used to use them to light the university, before electricity. You can fix it to an object if you need to leave it somewhere.”

“Perhaps not anywhere my idiot roommate has access,” Istredd grumbled.

“Perhaps,” she said. “And I won’t tell anyone about your research. You’ll owe me a favor, though.”

Istredd looked up to see her sly, teasing grin back. He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you owe me one, last?”

“That’s not how I remember it,” she said as she pushed to her feet, looking entirely too smug.

Istredd sighed and stood to go after her. “Yenna--”

“Fine.” She turned back and stood still to let him catch her, come close enough to feel her warmth, her sun-warm hand on his chest. “We’re even.” 

Yenna’s phone buzzed insistently, and she dug it out of a jacket pocket and huffed at it. “Shit. I’ll be late for alchemy again.” She scooped up her things and dumped them haphazardly into her satchel as Istredd folded the blanket. 

When he handed it to her, she reached up to press a kiss to Istredd’s cheek, then drew back to fix her eyes on his. “Take care of that, yeah? It’s fragile.” She glanced down at the plant. “That, too.”

Istredd watched her walk away before picking up the plant she’d saved. He wasn't going to waste the chance she'd given him.


End file.
